


Old Habits

by soongtypeprincess



Series: South Downs Retirement [4]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Memories, Retirement, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Sweet, That old sofa that Crowley loves so much, godfathers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-28 20:29:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18763645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soongtypeprincess/pseuds/soongtypeprincess
Summary: Aziraphale remembers the first time Crowley fell asleep on his sofa.





	Old Habits

**Author's Note:**

> We've all seen the photo with the sofa. Let the fics commence.
> 
> Here's mine, a non-smut one, oh my!
> 
> I do NOT own these characters!

Heavy rain blew against the cottage windows as a small fire crackled in the fireplace. A cup of hot tea sat on the table next to Aziraphale, who was sitting in his favorite antique armchair and reading one of his rare Jonathan Swifts.

Adam was lying on his back on the blue loveseat with a first edition of Dickens’ _Great Expectations_.

The old Zenith wireless was playing jazz and was turned down low so their reading wouldn’t be disturbed, and so that Crowley could be lulled to sleep.

He was on his stomach and stretched out on the old sofa across from Aziraphale. A green tartan blanket was wrapped around him from his torso to his feet, and he was hugging the pillow under him.

Adam shut his dusty book and yawned.

Aziraphale glanced at him and grinned. “It’s past your bedtime, young man.”

“It’s summer,” he replied in the middle of another yawn. “I don’t have a bedtime.”

“Is that so?” Aziraphale took a sip of his tea. “Are you enjoying the book?”

Adam nodded. “Yeah.” He sniffed and put his hands behind his head, staring at the wooden panels of the ceiling. “Poor Pip, though.”

“What chapter are you on?”

“When he first meets Estella. She’s absolutely terrible.”

Aziraphale smiled. “There’s more to her than meets the eye, dear. Just read on; you’ll see.”

A loud snore interrupted them and they both turned to Crowley, who was now on his back.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes while Adam giggled.

“Dear,” the angel addressed Crowley in a loud voice. “Anthony!”

His snoring grew louder and Adam tried to stifle his laughter.

“ _Anthony!_ ”

Crowley started with a snort. “Hey...” he groaned.

“Turn over, love,” Aziraphale instructed.

“ _What?”_ he exclaimed in a half-asleep stupor.

“Turn. _Over._ You’re snoring!”

Crowley swatted his hand, grunted, and crossed his arms as he turned away from them onto his side.

They waited to ensure that his snoring had now ceased. It did, and Aziraphale shook his head. “He never used to snore so much,” he told Adam as he propped up his feet, “not until we retired. Seems he’s taking full advantage of being an old pensioner.”

Adam bit his tongue and grinned, quite tempted to point out the yellow tartan slippers on Aziraphale’s feet that were resting on a cracked and faded leather ottoman.

He sat up and stretched his arms. “Why does he always fall asleep there?” Adam asked. “Every time he sits on it, he nods off.”

“Old habits, dear." Aziraphale replied, adjusting his readers. He held the book in his lap. “Off to bed?”

Adam stood and picked up his book. “I was going to read a bit more.” He rubbed his left eye and yawned again. “May I have another slice of angel cake?"

“You may. Not a big slice; you’ll be awake the whole night.”

“Mm-hmm. Want some?”

“No thank you, lad.”

Adam went into the kitchen and Aziraphale listened to his movements as he stared at Crowley, who was softly breathing as he slept.

He grinned as his eyes traced along the indentation of his body against the cushions. Crowley had slept on the old sofa for years now, and it was bound to take his form sooner or later.

Aziraphale turned to Adam as he emerged from the kitchen holding a plate with a rather tall slice of angel cake and an even taller glass of milk.

“Night, Uncle Ezra,” he mumbled, balancing his late night snack as he squeezed his book under his arm.

“Good night, my boy.”

Aziraphale opened his book, then paused to gaze at his husband again.

“You always ended up on my sofa, didn’t you, love?” he whispered to him.

Crowley didn’t reply, but only pulled the blanket tighter around him.

Aziraphale’s eyes drooped and he folded his hands on his book as he remembered one night.

\----------

It was years ago, before Adam, before the delayed Doomsday, and before their marriage and retirement, and Aziraphale was in his back room admiring his new sofa.

He had bought it from an antique dealer who specialized in Victorian and Edwardian pieces. He ran his fingers over the wooden edges of the arms and adjusted the neatly folded blanket once more over the back.

After he brewed his tea, he sat in the middle of it, a book in his lap. He gently set his tea on the coffee table in front of him and put on his readers.

It was a blissful hour and twenty-three minutes, with the shoppe in it after-hours, the wireless playing soft music, and gentle rain against the windows. And with the smell of fresh brewed tea and old books, it was Aziraphale’s vision of Paradise.

Suddenly, he heard something sliding across his wooden floor.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale said.

He turned and looked down to see a six foot long black rat snake looking up at him with golden eyes.

“Hello, my dear,” Aziraphale greeted him. “You’re in rather late.”

Crowley slithered to the angel’s slippers and proceeded to crawl up his right leg.

Aziraphale tutted at him. “Must I always be your heat rock?”

The snake ignored him, curling his body onto Aziraphale’s lap and continuing to climb up his stomach and chest until he was under his chin.

“What are you---”

Crowley tickled him with his tongue, making him move his head away with a huff.

“Behave yourself,” he muttered. He playfully tapped the serpent’s head. “Have you eaten yet?”

Crowley turned his head to point at his long body, which had a round protuberance at his stomach.

“Ah, I see. Well, if you don’t mind, I’d like to continue my reading, so fall asleep in my lap, if you must.”

He moved to pick up his book again, but stopped when Crowley continued to crawl upward with his whole body now, sliding his smooth scales under his jaw and tickling the back of his neck as he curled.

“Oh! Crowley, please…” he giggled. “This is just...what are you---”

He felt a small tongue flick against his ear lobe.

“ _Crowley_ please! Haha! Why are---hey, don’t you dare go down my night shirt!”

He felt him try to crawl down his chest, but then there was nothing, and then he heard a loud THWUMP!

Aziraphale gasped. “Crowley!”

He sat up and looked behind the sofa to find Crowley, now in his human form, lying flat on his back and holding his head.

“Oh, my dear, are you alright?” He rushed to his side helped him to his feet. “Easy does it, now. Hold onto me.”

Crowley grunted and gripped Aziraphale’s arm. “I’m okay,” he lied.

“No, you’re not! I heard the sound your head made on my floor.” He helped him lie on the sofa and put a pillow under his head. “Don’t move; I’ll make an ice pack and stir up some headache powder.”

“I’m---oh! Oh, blessed be!” Crowley cursed, his head throbbing.

“Stay where you are, young man,” Aziraphale instructed as he went upstairs.

Minutes later, he was balancing the ice pack on the crown of Crowley’s head.

“The medicine will help with your pain. Just give it a few minutes.”

Crowley smirked. “Why can’t you just use your power to fix my head?”

“There isn’t enough divine power for _that,_ my dear.”

He grinned as Crowley laughed, though it wasn’t very loud. He was trying to not cause an echo that would reverberate his head for the worse.

“New sofa?” he muttered, his hands resting on his chest.

“Mm-hmm. Just got it in today.”

“Ngk. Must be why I slipped off. New material.”

“It’s from the 19th century, Crowley. There’s nothing new about it.”

Crowley sighed. “New to me…”

“And anyway, I believe your big dinner is what made you off balance.”

“Nonsense,” Crowley waved his hand. “It was a light snack if it was anything. Just a rat, is all.”

“Was it pregnant?”

“Forget it, then. You’re making my head worse.”

They sat in silence for a while and Aziraphale noticed that Crowley had suddenly dozed off and was breathing smoothly.

He thought he should perhaps wake him, what with the bump on his head and all, but Crowley opened his eyes and looked up at him.

“You can read your book if you’d like,” he said in a soft voice.

Aziraphale took the ice off his head. “Are you sure?”

Crowley nodded and closed his eyes again. “S’fine, angel…” He sighed and was dozing again.

Aziraphale picked up his book off the floor where he had dropped it and gently shook him.

Crowley’s eyes barely opened and Aziraphale said, “That pillow is very worn in. Here.”

He helped him sit up and he took his place where the pillow had been. When he situated himself, Aziraphale guided Crowley onto his back again, this time resting the demon’s head in his lap.

“Better?”

Crowley grinned. “Better. Thank you, angel.”

Aziraphale did not continue his book. Instead, he rested his cheek in his hand and his other hand on Crowley’s chest, and they slept until the early morning.

\-----------------------

Aziraphale awoke suddenly when a loud crack came from the fireplace.

He rubbed his face and found that he was back in their cottage and his book had slipped off his lap.

He sat up and noticed that Crowley was awake and gazing at him with a grin.

He flashed him a tired smile, too. “Hello, darling. Sleep well?”

“I did till you started snoring.”


End file.
